The Choking Kind

3 - Hazel

SIX YEARS AGO

I stood in the stifling southern air, handing out pamphlets to all of those who entered my father's church like I had since I was six years old. But this place wasn't my home. After losing my mother a few months ago, my father thought we needed a fresh start. That meant packing up my entire life and leaving everyone I knew behind to start over in Sumner, Georgia, a few hours south. My eyes scanned the parking lot for any stragglers, landing on a group of boys on the far side of the property, making their way toward me. I plastered a smile on my face and opened my mouth to greet them when one yelled out, "Look at the Jesus freak."

The boys who flanked him began to laugh, but the one who sauntered behind them didn't crack a smile as he took a long drag from his cigarette, his cobalt eyes locked on mine. He was easily a foot taller than the rest, and his glare sent a shiver snaking down my spine.

"She's got nice tits," one of the other boys added. "What do you think?" His gaze flicked to the taller boy with a scowl on his sun-kissed face. Even in his anger, he was beautiful. His flaxen hair was faded low like he'd just trimmed it off for the summer to try to counter the oppressive heat.

The boy in the back eyed me a moment longer before shrugging. "I think she's a waste of time." With a sneer, he continued on past me as his friends chuckled and followed after him.

"I'd still fuck her," one of them added.

"Have some standards," the beautiful boy shot back as he smacked his friend on the back of the head.

Screw this. Tears began to prick my eyes, and I turned to head into the church and take my seat in the front row. My thoughts were consumed by the boy laughing at me with his friends. I should have walked across the lot and slapped him. I should have screamed something. Anything.

Instead, I forced a smile, and I stiffened my spine as I sat on the hard pew, listening to my father give his first sermon. Everyone who was in Sumner, Georgia, aside from the heathens, was here today, and the air conditioning was on the fritz.

"God doesn't give you things you can't handle," my daddy spoke, and a few people called out amen. "If you think this is hot, imagine not getting into Heaven." The crowd began to chuckle, and my father glanced my way. I forced a big smile, nodding my head in agreement, but my chest felt hollow. How could he smile like everything was okay?

It was tough being the daughter of a pastor. Everyone expected perfection, and there were days, days like today when I didn't know if I could continue to pretend. I sat, lost in thought, as my father continued on for what felt like years. He was beginning to wrap it up when he said he had an announcement to make, causing me to sit up straighter. This was the moment I was going to be introduced to the town, and I didn't want to look like I hadn't been paying attention.

"I want to share with you all one of the many blessings in my life," he said, nodding toward me. But then his eyes cut to Charlotte, my grief counselor. My stomach sank as a look passed between them, a look I'd never seen him share with another woman besides momma.

Charlotte pushed to her feet, and my stomach lurched as she took her place beside my father, her hand wrapped in his. "I've asked this lovely woman to be my wife, and she's said yes."

The crowd clapped and cheered around me, and my head began to spin. How could he just replace her? How could he love someone else so fast?

"We will have a service here tomorrow. Just friends and family," he added. "Of course, that includes all of you. Because what is a congregation if not family?"

I felt sick. I was going to be sick. The heat was causing my stomach to roll, and I had to clasp my hand over my mouth to keep the bile from rising any further. I was his family. My mother was his family. How could he do this to us?

As soon as the crowd pushed from their seats and made their way toward my father to congratulate him and introduce themselves, I hurried through the throngs of people and out into the parking lot, struggling to get a breath of fresh air. Still, the humidity made it even harder to breathe. I gathered my wheat-colored tendrils in my hand to allow some air to hit the back of my neck, but it didn't help.

I stumbled down the steps and rounded the corner of the building, only to come face to face with the taller boy who had insulted me earlier. He had a can of spray paint in his hand and was in the middle of tagging the side of the brick building.

My eyes widened as I took in the large black letters that read FUCK GO.

"What?" I asked, my eyes narrowed as I tried to figure out his message.

The beautiful boy shook his head and added a D to the end, a grin spreading across his face.

"Clever," I snapped, rolling my eyes. "You know you're just going to have to clean that when I tell them I saw you do it."

He made a face like he was thinking something over before walking toward me. His hand stretched out, and before I could react, he spray-painted a black stripe across my pretty white dress.

I gasped, jumping back in shock as he admired his handy work.

"You ruined my dress!"

"Couldn't have gotten any worse, trust me," he shot back. I tried to fight it, but tears pricked my eyes, and my chin began to quiver. His gaze narrowed like he was contemplating insulting me again, but he didn't.

Both our heads snapped to the right as we heard voices from people filing out of the church.

"Shit," he muttered. "Let's go."

I folded my arms across my chest. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Fine." He dropped the can at my feet. "Then you can take the blame." He turned and began to make his way through the trees that lined the parking lot.

I didn't have time to make it to the car, so I hurried after him, cursing under my breath as thorny vines scraped the bare flesh of my legs. "This is crazy. I don't even know who you are," I yelled after him, wincing as the plant dug into my skin.

"Weston," He called over his shoulder.

"I'd say it's nice to meet you –" I began, but my words were cut off by his bark of a laugh. "Where are we going?" I whisper-yelled after him, struggling to keep up.

He reached back, grabbing my hand and tugging me along, and at that moment, I no longer cared as long as he took me far away from this place.